Philandering in the Potions Pantry
by Brandybuckbeak
Summary: One-Shot: A small potions error on account of one Mr. longbottom, leads to a series of unfortunate events. Involves a pantry and water galore. DHr.


A/n: random one-shot in which I was bored and had absolutely no strength to actually carry out a plot line in my other story. If you are reading that, I'm not dead. Just quite blocked per se. Perhaps this story will lead to some creativity in that direction.

Perhaps not.

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**Philandering in the Potions Pantry**

**By: BrandyBuckBeak**

**A.K.A. Kaitlyn**

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The normally cool Potions dungeon was anything but.

Steam emitted from the many cauldrons set precariously about the dark and dreary room. Soft whispering shattered the heavy silence that the room had been engulfed in previously.

Hermione Granger, while stirring her hissing cauldron meticulously, threw out directions to the potions challenged Neville Longbottom. The plump boy wore a grateful expression as he followed the instructions religiously.

The broken silence, however, did not go unnoticed. The severely overworked –and underpaid might I add– Severus Snape's head snapped upwards. His haven of silence had all but been destroyed by that beautiful –er– insufferable know-it-all.

The classes Severus Snape held between Gryffindor and Slytherin were far from enjoyable. Rude comments and small fights always seemed to waver in the air during these high intensity lessons.

Silence– a very rare occurrence within this class, or for any class for that matter – was like a breath of fresh air for the Potions professor.

This break did not last for long, and Hermione Granger was to blame. Her and that whimpering blob of a boy. How he made it into N.E.W.T. level Potions was far beyond the greasy head of Severus Snape.

"Ms. Granger, if Mr. Longbottom is incapable of preparing a satisfactory brew of potion, than I highly doubt such an abysmal potion maker as yourself could be of any assistance. I however, the trained professor, might be able to take on such a challenge. 10 points from Gryffindor. And– as obvious as it is– Mr. Longbottom's potion is in dire need of an eye of newt. If you could be so kind as to retrieve it from the storage rooms, as I do believe Mr. Potter has taken far too much and we seem to be at a loss for it. I think that constitutes as another 10 points from Gryffindor. Pity." Snape said in that silky, patronizing tone that only he could master.

Furthermore, Harry Potter was not even in attendance. He had been hit the previous day by a bludger and was still recovering in the hospital wing. The weary professor was just so used to blaming the boy-who-lived for everything that he did not notice.

No one said a word. No one flinched. Arguing was of no purpose. When that man set his greasy head on something, there was not turning him back.

Hermione wordlessly stepped through the door of the storage room. Its deep musky fragrance penetrated her nose and left her feeling a bit dizzy. And giddy at the same time.

He slender fingers ran through her soft hair as she scanned the rows of shelves looking for an ingredient. She could not quite recall the name though, the fumes had gotten to her.

She was interrupted from her semi-trip when loud screams echoed through the dungeons. Hermione was shaken from her reverie and dashed for the door. A quick glance through it told her that something had occurred with Neville's potion.

How she knew this, you ask?

"Stupid damn Longbottom!" Blaise Zabini, a quiet Slytherin boy hissed venomously.

Hermione stood in the doorway between the two rooms. A thick cover of purple clouds began to shroud her vision.

That's when it happened...

Dumbledore, the possibly senile old man had to have them installed during the summer. His awareness was sparked – no pun intended– after a potions accident and a nearly incinerated dungeon.

Water began shooting out of the metal sprinklers upon the dark ceilings, soaking anything and everything within its path.

Girls started shrieking. They dashed for the doors, yelling all sorts of curses and such over their freshly done hair.

Hermione watched the scene with much amusement, until she was knocked to the floor of the storage room. She heard the faint 'ouch' to her right and a loud clank that signaled the door of the storage room shutting. And had she not heard the faint click of a lock?

Water still sprayed from the fountain above them, a little lighter here because the fire hazard risk was lesser.

Hermione rubbed her head. She had hit it slightly when she was barreled into. She turned to her right and saw a crumpled heap. She sat up slightly.

The gushing water above her slowed down and eventually stopped, but not before leaving a sizeable puddle in its wake.

Hermione– ignoring the possibly injured human (hey she was the victim here)– crawled toward the heavy door. She jangled the handle, but to no avail. She reached in her pocket for her wand.

Oh crud on a stick with cheese.

Her wand was in her robe pocket.

Her robe pocket was on her robe.

Her robe was on her chair, abandoned in the irregular heat.

The chair was in the Potions room.

Hermione was on the other side of the oak door.

The oak door was locked.

Oh crud on a stick with cheese.

Hermione scanned the faintly lit room around her. Her amber eyes locked on the crumpled mass that she had so heartlessly left before.

Things were different now, things had changed.

She now needed that crumpled mass.

She waltzed over to heap upon the cold stone floor, a wave of pity crashed upon her. Why had she been so heartless as to leave this person who could possibly be in dire need of help. Why had she left her only possible means of escape –er– company?

Hermione knelt down next to the mysterious person shrouded in the black cloak. Her long wavy hair brushing upon his water stained cloak.

She gently (cough) prodded him with her long elegant fingers, each capped off by an elaborately designed nail. An after effect of the sleep over her and her dorm mates had indulged themselves in. Including Ginny of course. The nights would not be the same without that fiery red headed vixen.

The cloak shuddered for a moment but did not reveal what lay beneath it, hidden in the depths and intricacies of the cloak. Hermione smiled at how romantic her mind seemed to make everything. Thank you Lavender and your cheesy romance novels. Sob. Heave. Sob.

Hermione poked yet again, a little more roughly (cough). This time a small portion of the black robe slid down, revealing a strand of pale blonde hair and the slightest hint of a pale complexion.

Enthralled, Hermione lowered the cloak further. Revealing the pale aristocratic features that made up the extremely handsome face of one mister Draco Malfoy. She gasped for a moment, not expecting at all that which the cloak revealed. (Make sense? Oh well!)

She studied his face. Taking in every perfect curve and protrusion. His face was so perfect that it could have been Apollo himself that lay next to Hermione. His flaxen hair– which was once so restricted like the boy was too– now lay upon his forehead. Messed up in ever the suggestive way, it completed the undeniable beauty of the man before her. She need not examine beneath the cloak for she was well aware of the glorious muscles that the plane held. The boy on many occasion had taken to removing his shirt. Not to any objection of the females, of course.

She searched the pockets of his robes for any trace of a wand. But she could find none. She was unaware of the heart-melting silver eyes that peered at her through half closed lids.

He watched as she searched his robe, completely unaware of how she had checked him out seconds before.

He glanced upon the undeniable beauty before him. He had felt some kind of pride as he watched her blossom from a buck-toothed, bushy-haired genius know-it-all into a gorgeous specimen of woman genius know-it-all.

The change seemed so gradual yet spontaneous at the same time. One day all the males complained of her know-it-all habits, the next they drooled over her. Yet Draco could not pinpoint the day in which he felt some sort of physical attraction towards the prudish mudblood. Nor could he pinpoint the day when he stopped caring about mudbloods or purebloods. Not that he could ever tell anyone this, if word got back to his father that he believed in equality. Well than... Queeeesh ::sound of throat slit::

He opened his eyes fully when he heard her utter some choice words.

"Now, now Granger. Are Head Girls supposed to speak such things? What a dirty mouth you have indeed." he smirked, ignoring the furious glance she sent him.

"It seems we have a dilemma, Malfoy. You see, when you crashed into me, the door closed in the process. Now we're locked in!" she screamed the last part.

Now Draco was a Malfoy, one of the most elegant and gentlemanly families to survive. But he was a male first.

"Gods Granger, if I wanted to hear you scream it would be in MUCH different circumstances." Draco Malfoy smirked haughtily, knowing that he had one up on the mudblood.

Hermione smiled back serenely, a clear sign that the girl was about to kick ferret ass. Major ferret ass.

Draco wisely put his hands up in defense. He had already experienced a very – VERY – pissed off Hermione in third year. He most definitely did not want a repeat performance.

"You mean, we're locked in?" Draco asked nonchalantly, completely averting the subject to something more safe for him and his perfectly sculpted face.

"Yes and neither of us have our wands. My robe is in the room, what's your excuse?" Hermione asked while slowly moving towards his face with a series of pokes.

Draco chuckled. This girl was quite amusing. "When the water started to pour out I ran for shelter. I left my wand on the desk. I couldn't have my hair messed up now could I?" The fair-haired boy asked as if it were the most obvious question in the world.

Hermione secretly agreed but would never speak such blaspheming words aloud.

Draco took her short silence as time to analyze the situation which he had currently gotten himself into.

He was soaked to the bone.

He was locked in a closet with a girl.

A completely soaked girl.

A completely soaked, beautiful girl.

A completely soaked, beautiful girl in a white shirt.

Need he repeat himself.

A small smirk played upon the handsome boy's features. It slowly got wider as his thoughts continued, with all the possible scenarios running through his hormonal head.

Life was good.

Hermione couldn't hep but be a tad bit scared at the small smirk that was steadily increasing on the boy's face before her.

"So Granger, what shall we do with such circumstances. I certainly am quite bored at the moment but have a few ideas."

Hermione looked thoroughly startled to be shaken out of her Draco-observation-reverie. She had decided that that's what it would be called.

Noticing the startled look upon the gorgeous features of the woman that knelt next to him– being the guy that he was– interpreted it the wrong way.

'She wants me' was all that was going through the sandy head of Draco Malfoy while he observed Hermione. He called it the Hermione-observation-rumination. He quite fancied that name and was proud of his extensive vocabulary.

Yes extensive.

Extremely extensive.

Smart and good looking, quite a catch. Don't bother, he already knows.

For Hermione, the situation finally came down upon her in full force. She began to shiver violently from the mix of the cold water and the consequences of this situation may provide.

Her white oxford blouse was soaked and the water made it cling to her, causing her to be ten times more cold. Her skirt was plastered to her legs as well as her hair to her face.

Draco Malfoy was in a similar dilemma. His cloak was drenched and as a result two shades of black darker. It would be a long while before it would be dry enough to provide warmth for its wearer.

Hermione blushed at the solution she had provided in her head for this particular quandary.

Draco smirked at the solution he had provided in his head for this particular quandary.

Their eyes met and both were well aware that the other had come to the same conclusions, though their reactions were quite different.

Hermione hesitantly reached for the buttons upon her formerly pressed blouse. She slowly made the descent on her shirt whilst growing increasingly scarlet.

Draco simply threw his shirt over his head and watched with little enthusiasm as it hit the wall and fell into the large puddle. His mood then quickly changed as his eyes skimmed over the scene to see a crimson face girl. With half her shirt unbuttoned.

Did that catch your attention?

Hermione stopped her slow movements when she felt a pair of eyes sweep her over.

She turned her head slightly and she met an unfamiliar gaze in the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. Almost like disappointment.

Disappointment?

Draco turned his head toward Hermione. He was slightly disappointed in her.

Hermione Granger was everything. She always exuded confidence. Within school, her answers, and in her appearances.

Was he wrong?

Hermione had a basic understanding of that look.

For some reason she did not want to let down Draco Malfoy. For some odd unexplainable reason.

She quickly finished her task in one swift movement. She pulled off her shirt and revealed her black bra. It was lacy and Hermione only wore it when she needed to feel good about herself.

Did she have to be insecure THIS morning?

Draco Malfoy raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her attire. Though he was appeased that the ever so confident Granger was once again in the living.

She smile shyly.

His smirk was anything but.

"So what to do?" Draco whistled innocently.

Hermione in turn raised an eyebrow.

The water on the ground had not subsided so the pair decided to find a sitting place that was not submerged.

There was one lone table in the back of the room. It was the only sitting place that the pair could see and they set off for it.

Once they had settled themselves upon the wooden table, another problem arose.

What to do?

Having both shared the thought, two heads turned and locked in a gaze.

Hermione shivered and quickly and painlessly removed her plaid skirt. She willed away the crimson that spread across her cheeks.

That's it, Draco Malfoy was impressed.

He then removed his pants.

The two leaned against the cold stone wall in nothing but undergarments. Each sneaking peaks at the other.

"Alright! I'm bored!" Draco malfoy announced after a mere thirty seconds of no conversation.

"Let's play a game!" He then announced as if he were hosting a party.

Hermione all but smacked her head. But when he turned his stormy grey eyes upon her she felt the inexplicable urge to please him.

She nodded enthusiastically, completely surprised at her own brazen actions. What would games entail with one mister Draco Malfoy?

Spontaneity was never one of her strong points. Oh well!

"Truth or dare?" Draco asked, a sly smile spreading across is features. Something akin to a Cheshire cat.

Hermione nervously answered a truth.

"Do you think I am incredibly shag-worthy?"

Hermione stuttered slightly.

"Do not make me administer the Veritaserum. I'm sure the pantry has a more than ample supply."

He cut in cheekily, not even realizing that Hermione was contemplating some kind of lie.

"Well –um– ya see?" she stumbled out with.

Draco smirked slightly and willed her onwards with a conciliatory wave of his pale hand.

"Yes." She audaciously concluded.

Draco was surprised at this act, he had not expected her to answer her at all.

"Truth or dare, Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione asked– almost flirtatiously?

He decided on being safe, he picked truth as well.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, same question." Hermione smirked.

"Most definitely!" He said as if he were being asked for coffee. Hermione was a bit taken aback by his nonchalant manner.

"Let's say you picked dare. Hypothetically, of course.." Hermione began still a little shaken by the aloofness of her fellow stuck-in-a-pantry-partner. As she liked to call him.

Draco nodded his head as he examined the blank wall before him.

"..And I dared you to kiss me..." Hermione never finished the query for she felt another pair of lips crashing upon hers.

The searing heat and passion this lip lock provided was enough to warm the entirety of the Gryffindor common room.

Their tongues battled for dominance with such force that they would surely be sore the following day.

Neither of them believed that such hatred that was pent up for so long could cause such pleasure. And when Professor Snape opened the door to his stores and found the snogging pair, neither of them could hardly care.

The wide-eyed Professor emerged from the room. His two best students, begrudgingly admitted, the two greatest rivals, were locked in a passionate kiss. In their knickers.

As they gathered their clothes and received their punishments, the pair shared a smirk.

Each knowing that their would be no supervision while cleaning the trophy room.

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**Hooray! That was amazing, to write at least. You guys have to tell me if it anything to read or not. It was a whole lot of fun getting in the minds of my favorite pairings. Yes they are OOC but honestly, I am not J.K Rowling, nor do I pretend to be. My story most definitely does not have to be plausible. That isn't a requirement while posting a fic so NANANAPOOPOO!**

**Anyway review, so I know if I should ever make another one of these again.**

**Just click the button.**

**Come on.**

**If you don't, your just a cotton-headed ninny-muggins! (ELF!!)**

**Love you all so much (if you review),**

**Kaitlyn**


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